


Our Baby

by SharkGirl



Series: EmiMike Week 2017 [7]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cute, Day 7, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Dreams, EmiMike, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, MichEmil, MilaSara, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Pregnant Dreams, Spoilers, Surprises, Sweet, White Day, emimikeweek2017, Česky | Czech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: His last thought was of a baby.  A beautiful baby with Emil’s eyes.Written for EmiMike Week 2017Day 7:  White Day





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's already the final day of EmiMike Week? How did this happen? It's been a great ride~
> 
> Okay, this is a weird one, haha. But I had it stuck in my head and it needed to be written!  
> Before anyone wonders if a tag is missing, there is NO _actual_ mpreg in this. (It'll make sense when you read it)  
>  Note: Michele (more specifically, his dreams) are unreliable. He wouldn't know, haha.
> 
> Un-beta'd. Please enjoy!!

Michele squinted against the bright fluorescent lights shining down on him.  They were moving quickly past like the white painted lines on a multi-lane highway.  No, they weren’t moving.  He was.  There was something soft beneath him and a pillow under his head.

He glanced to his right and saw a woman in scrubs and a surgical mask gripping the bars of the wheeled bed with blue glove-clad hands and looking straight ahead toward where his feet were pointing, but he didn’t have the energy to get up and see where they were going.  He turned to his left and saw familiar hands gripping the bars and a golden ring glinting beautifully under the hideous lights.

Michele’s gaze followed up the man’s arm to his face, but something was off.  Emil was wearing a surgical mask, too.  He opened his mouth to ask him why, but the person on his other side started talking and they slowed, turning down a different hallway.

“Male, twenty-seven years old, at thirty-nine weeks,” she said.

“How far apart are the contractions?” another person asked.

Michele didn’t know what they were talking about.  He just reached out for Emil’s hand, giving it a weak squeeze.

“Mickey?” the other man looked down, blue eyes wide. “Are you alright? Is the medicine wearing off?”

“Medicine…?” He frowned.  He didn’t remember taking any medicine.

“Okay, no time,” the second person – a doctor? – said, pulling on fresh gloves. “This baby’s coming now.”

“Baby…?” Michele gave Emil’s hand another squeeze. “What baby?”

But Emil just pulled down his mask and smiled. “Our baby.” He leaned over the rail and kissed Michele’s forehead, lacing their fingers. “Our baby,” he repeated. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Proud,” Michele repeated and then looked down at his belly.  His unbelievably _round_ belly. “Whoa, wait-”

“Okay, Mr. Crispino, I’m going to need you to push,” the nurse on his side instructed, taking his other hand. “On the count of three, okay?”

“Wait. Hold on. This doesn’t make any sense. I…I can’t. I’m not-”

“One, two…three!”

“NO!” Michele shot up in bed, gasping for breath.  It was still dark out, the only light coming from the clock on his bedside table.  He put a hand over his heart, throwing back the sheets with the other.  He felt down his chest to his belly – his flat belly – and heaved a sigh. “It was a dream.”

He fell back onto his pillows and scrubbed his face with his hands.  Then he glanced over at his husband, who was happily snoring away, a soft smile on his lips.  Clearly he wasn’t having any nightmares about going into labor.

“Huh, a man going into labor,” he snorted, the leftover anxiety and fear from the all-too-real dream fading away and being replaced by amusement. “That’s ridiculous.”  He glanced over at the television, which Emil had insisted they put in their bedroom, and noticed that it was buzzing.  Emil had turned off the cable box, but not the set again.  He picked up the remote and shut it off.

“I was gonna…do that…” Emil mumbled in his sleep.

“Sure. _That_ you heard.” Michele rolled his eyes and set the remote back down on his nightstand.  With a sigh, he got back under the blankets and faced away from the other man.  But, just as he closed his eyes, two warm arms wrapped around his middle and he felt the telltale brush of a beard against the nape of his neck.

Michele bit back a grin and snuggled into his husband’s embrace before falling back asleep.

 

The next morning, Michele awoke to an empty bed and the smell of sizzling bacon wafting through their apartment.  He stretched his arms up over his head and yawned before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.  He toed on his slippers and walked out of their bedroom.

“Good morning, Sunshine!” Emil called from over the counter.  He was wearing the purple apron he’d bought Michele when they’d first gotten married, though he was the only one who ever wore it – most of the time, anyway. “Eggs are done, bacon’s almost there, and your espresso is on the table.”

“You’re up early,” Michele mused as he took a seat, picking up the cup and downing the shot.  He grimaced. “It went stale.”

“Well, you could have had fresh espresso, if you’d gotten up the first two times I called for you,” Emil replied, sliding two slices of bacon off of the pan and onto a plate. “But I guess you needed the rest.” He set the dish down in front of Michele and puckered his lips.

“What?” Michele asked, knowing his game.

“My payment for the extra minutes of beauty sleep and the wonderful breakfast.” Emil beamed, leaning closer and tapping a finger to his grin.

“Yes, yes.” Michele gripped the back of his head and pressed their lips together, teasingly running his tongue along the seam before pulling away. “Breakfast looks good.”

“Uh…y-yeah.” Emil cleared his throat and untied the apron, hanging it over the back of an empty chair. “Anyway, I should get to the rink,” he said.

“Already?” Michele frowned, but tried not to let it show.

“Not all of us are retired gold medalists who can sit around all day.” The other man booped his nose. “Though, I wish I’d thought about practice and went to bed earlier last night,” he admitted, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Michele set his fork down and glared at his husband. “You left the television on again.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just what were you watching so late, anyway?”

“Oh, there was a new episode of that medical drama!” Emil gushed.  Michele was glad Emil had found a show he liked and thankful that he recorded and chose to watch said show when his squeamish Italian husband wasn’t conscious. “It was really good!” he went on. “This woman went into labor in the middle of a subway and, of course, there was a power outage and-”

Ah, so that explained the labor dream Michele had.  He probably heard some of the episode while he was sleeping.  That made sense.  Why else would he dream about giving birth?  It was physically impossible for him, after all.

“Is that the time?” Emil interrupted himself. “I’ve gotta go.” He bent down and gave his husband a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll see you after practice, okay?”

Michele hummed in reply and waved him off, hiding a small smile as the other rushed out of their shared apartment, almost forgetting his lunch.  He shook his head and began eating the breakfast Emil had prepared.  After years of marriage, it still surprised him that Emil could cook almost anything.  He’d even mastered authentic Italian dishes – not that Michele or any member of the Crispino family would admit it.

He frowned at the thought.  He missed his family.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love living in the Czech Republic, it was where his husband trained, after all.  But he still longed for his mother’s Sunday gravy and trips to the beach with his father.  It was hard moving from the coast to a landlocked country.

But what Michele missed the most was his other half.  He hadn’t seen Sara in months.  Not since their joint retirement party back in Chieti.  He hated being separated from her, but it was either live near his sister or live with his husband and – although he was pretty sure Emil was sweating it a bit – Michele made the right choice.  Besides, he was a househusband now.  What right did he have to ask Emil to train in a foreign country just so he could see his twin sister?

Maybe he’d call her after breakfast.  It would be nice to do a video chat or something.  Even if she _had_ been very busy as of late.  He wondered how she was taking to the retired life.  Was she sitting at home eating Mila’s cooking and thinking about him?  He hoped.  Just a little, anyway.

“This is getting depressing,” he bemoaned and went back to eating.  After he finished, he walked over to the sink and rinsed off his plate.  He set it down next to his espresso cup and Emil’s large coffee mug with the text, _‘I conquered Pikes Peak: Elevation 14,114 Feet’_ in a bold font.

Deciding there was no reason to let them sit, Michele washed the dishes, setting them in the drainer and drying his hands.  He looked at the clock.  Emil had barely been gone half an hour and Michele was already missing him.  Well, maybe not _missing_ him, but it was boring being home alone.  Yes.  That’s what it was.

He sighed and took out his phone.  He’d just give Sara a call.  He was certain she’d be up by now.  She was two hours ahead of him, after all.  His phone rang a few times and then he saw the beautiful face of his baby sister.  Though, she didn’t look like her usual, smiling self.  She looked exhausted.

“Hey, Mickey,” she greeted, sounding as tired as she appeared.

“Sara,” he began and then frowned.  If he'd learned anything from growing up with her, it was that it was incredibly rude to bring up a lady’s appearance if it was anything less than flawless. “How are you?” he opted for a question instead.

“Just a little…under the weather,” she said, sitting up and taking him with her.  “How are things with you? Still in the honeymoon phase?”

Michele’s cheeks burned and his frown deepened. “Honeymoon phase?” he scoffed. “We’ve been married for two years.”

“So?” She cocked her head to the side, brightening. “Mila and I have been married for three and we’re still very much in the ‘can’t take our eyes off of the other’ stage.” She giggled. “It’s different now that we’re not traveling and training separately all the time,” she added. “Isn’t it like that with you and Emil?”

Michele thought about it.  She was right.  After he retired, it was like he and Emil started a new life together.  Not as husbands who roomed together during competitions and who split their time between flats in the other’s home country during the off season.  Now that Emil was the only one still competing, it was like they were newlyweds again.

“Well,” he changed the subject. “How’s Mila?”

Sara gave a knowing smile, but went along with it. “She’s fine. Yakov’s been especially tough on all of them lately,” she said. “They never quite filled the holes Victor and Georgi left after they retired. Yuri can’t win them all.”

“Are you sure about that?” Michele chuckled. The blond Russian prodigy had spent the last five years taking gold at nearly every competition.  There was no stopping him.

“Yes, well.” Sara rolled her eyes. “Anyway, the new girls are pretty good, so Mila’s working hard so she doesn’t lose to ‘the youngins’,” she quoted. “I still think she’s gorgeous on the ice, but she doesn’t believe me anymore.”

“Maybe if it wasn’t coming from her wife.” He raised his brows.

“I was her rival first.” Sara pouted. “Anyway, I’m happy you called, but I’m sort of wiped, so…” She did look it.  Even when she was talking cheerfully, the dark circles under her eyes gave her away.

“I understand. Take care of yourself, _Tesoro_.”

“Ugh, stop. You sound like _Papà_.” She pulled a face.

“Okay, okay.” Michele placated. “But I mean it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” She yawned before giving a little wave. “I’ll talk to you later, Mickey.”

“ _Ciao_ ,” he said and then ended the call.  He wasn’t sure if it was her yawn or if his dream had given him a fitful sleep, but Michele suddenly felt fatigued.  He glanced over at the clock again.  He’d barely woken up an hour ago.  It was way too early for a midday nap.

He thought of ways he could busy himself, but he’d vacuumed the day before and Emil had already taken care of the laundry.  There wasn’t much left to do.  He rolled his shoulder, his eyes drooping.  He should shower, but he was so sleepy.  Then it clicked.

A bath might be nice.

During the months they’d lived together permanently, Emil had accumulated an impressive collection of bath goods.  He had everything from those fizzy little bomb things – _Don’t they smell great, Mickey? Ooh! This one has glitter!_ – to Epsom salts and bubble bath.  Honestly, Michele liked a plain old soak, himself, but he grabbed a little bottle of something that smelled nice and began filling the tub.

Separate from Emil’s vast assortment, were Michele’s own bathing necessities.  He kept most of them in the shower, but he did invest in a pillow and caddy – for reading books and video chatting with Sara…until Emil mentioned that it was a little odd to talk to his twin sister in the tub, leading Michele to save his conversations for when he wasn’t partially submerged or naked.

For the moment, he opted for only the pillow.  It had suction cups on the back, which kept it firmly in place.  He poured some of the sweet smelling liquid into the water and stepped in, hissing at the high temperature.  He slid the rest of the way in and turned the water off, leaning back against the pillow.

Yes.  This was exactly what he needed.  It was warm and comfortable.  He’d just soak for a bit and then maybe take a nap later.  He’d just close his eyes for a moment…

Michele opened his eyes when he realized one of his legs was out of the water.  He glanced up and saw his husband massaging his foot, sliding his thumbs up the arch and humming a tune that sounded familiar, but Michele couldn’t quite place it.

When had he gotten home?  “Emil?”

“Hey, you two.” The other man looked down at him with an easy smile, his eyes bright. “I thought you’d drifted off for a moment there.”

“No. I’m…awake.” Michele blinked. “You…two?” he questioned.

“Yeah.” Emil gestured with his chin. “Don’t tell me you forgot.” He chuckled.

Michele looked down and gasped at the roundness of his middle, his belly sticking out above the water.  Suddenly, he felt like a whale. “Emil…” he lamented.

“Shh…you’re beautiful,” his husband cooed.  Michele wanted to call him a liar.  There was no way he was beautiful in such a state.  He felt gigantic.  “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Them?” Michele raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t there only one?”

“Well, we don’t know if they’re a boy or a girl yet. Since we’re waiting,” Emil replied. “But,” he went on. “No matter what, I hope they have your eyes.” He sighed, giving Michele a crooked, dopey little smile. “Your gorgeous violet eyes.”

Michele ducked his head, his cheeks growing warm.  He peeked up at Emil, whose attention returned to his gentle massaging, his own deep blue eyes completely focused.  Michele stifled a yawn, the soothing motion lulling him to sleep.  His last thought was of a baby.  A beautiful baby with Emil’s eyes.

He jolted awake, splashing water over the edge of the tub.  Michele looked down, relieved when he found his abdomen to be just as flat as before.  He brought a hand to his face.

“Another dream?” he asked, shaking his head.  The first made sense.  He’d overheard the television.  But now he was dreaming about being pregnant all on his own.  He dipped his hands into the water and then scrubbed his face.  “This dream just had to be because of the other one,” he reasoned.  Why else would his mind fabricate such a ludicrous scenario?

Michele reached forward and pulled the plug, letting the water drain.  Maybe he should go out for a bit.  Some fresh air might do him some good.  He’d been meaning to try the new bakery that opened up down the street.  Emil said one of his rink mates absolutely loved their _kolache_.

So, with the rest of his afternoon planned out, Michele stepped out of the tub and grabbed his towel.

 

Michele ended up going window shopping while he was out, perusing some local markets and finally ending his trip at the bakery.  They were almost sold out, but he managed to procure the coveted pastries for Emil and himself.  He could almost see his husband’s smiling face now, eager to munch on the sweet treat.

With that in mind, he headed home, surprised to find the door to their apartment unlocked and slightly ajar.  He immediately thought the worst.  Well, if a burglar wanted their possessions, they were welcome to them, but he wasn’t about to let the villain go with getting a glimpse of him for the police report.

But, when Michele pushed the door the rest of the way open, he spotted Emil standing in the living room, talking on his cell phone.  He released the breath he’d been holding and shook his head.  How many times had he reminded the other man to make sure the door was completely shut?

“I’m home,” he called and Emil nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Mickey!” he gasped, his phone slipping out of his hand and clattering on the floor. “You’re home.”

“That’s what I said.” Michele raised an eyebrow, gaze flicking down to the discarded phone. “Everything alright?”

“Oh.” Emil bent down and picked up his cell. “Yeah, just, you know. Work stuff.”

“Yeah.” He knew something was up, but didn’t press the issue.  Emil wasn’t one to keep secrets.  So, he was sure he’d find out whatever it was soon enough.  He held up the bag with the bakery’s logo and gave it a little shake, failing to hide a grin when Emil’s face lit up.

“One sec,” Emil mouthed, holding up a finger and bringing his phone back to his ear. “Yes, sounds good,” he spoke into the receiver. “Tomorrow at ten. We’ll be there.” Then he hung up.

“What was that about?” Michele asked, taking the pastries out of the bag and setting them on the table.

Emil bit his lower lip and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “It’s a surprise,” he beamed. “But I promise you’re absolutely going to love it.”

Michele was intrigued, but he let the subject drop.  As much as he loved anything Emil did for him, he actually might want to _be_ surprised this time. “So, ten tomorrow, huh?”

“Yup.” Emil grabbed one of the _kolache_ and took a bite, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he let out an almost sinful noise. “ _Můj bože_ , _Mickey_ …” he moaned.  And suddenly tomorrow’s surprise was forgotten, replaced by thoughts of what Michele wanted to do for the _rest_ of the day.

 

Later that night, the two cuddled close, Emil brushing his fingers through Michele’s hair and pressing his lips to his temple. “I can’t wait for tomorrow,” Emil said in a whisper. “I wish I could tell you now, but it would spoil the surprise.”

“We should go to bed before you say anything else,” Michele snickered, turning to give his husband and chaste kiss. Then he gave his beard a little tug. “Goodnight, Emil.”

“Goodnight, Mickey.”

Michele opened his eyes and tried to move, but he couldn’t.  He glanced down and smiled at the reason.  Emil was curled up beside him, his ear pressed against Michele’s belly, though there wasn’t much of it.

“What are you doing?” he asked fondly.

“Talking to our baby,” Emil replied and then chuckled. “Well, listening now.”

“Oh? And what does our baby have to say?” Michele humored him.

“Not much, I’m afraid.” He pulled back and flashed Michele one of his dazzling smiles. “Looks like they’re going to be the strong and silent type.”

“They certainly don’t get that from _your_ side of the family,” he snorted.

“Too true.” Emil gave a hearty laugh and pulled back so he was sitting beside him. “I still can’t believe it.” He placed a hand on the small bump and Michele’s heart swelled. “Our baby…”

Again, Michele shot up in bed, this time drenched in sweat.  At some point, Emil must have gotten up and grabbed the thick duvet from their closet.  It was stifling.  He threw it off and stood up on shaky legs.

“Another dream,” he said, running a hand through his sweat-slicked bangs.  The television was properly turned off this time.  He had no excuse.  He’d never once dreamed of having a baby.  Hell, he and Emil hadn’t even discussed the possibility of adopting.  So, why…?

“Mickey…?” Emil sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Is it morning already?”

A quick glance toward their still dark bedroom window showed that, no, it was not. “Sorry, I just have to go to the bathroom,” Michele said. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay…” And half a second later, Michele heard snoring.  He shook his head and walked toward their ensuite.  It was too early for a shower, so he simply turned on the sink, splashing water on his face.

This was too weird.  The first dream made sense.  The second was probably caused by the first.  But he hadn’t thought about them since and yet he’d had a third.  He was almost afraid to go to sleep.  It wasn’t like the dreams were truly nightmares.  In fact, within the dream, he felt warm and safe and loved.

An image of dream Emil’s smiling face flashed in his mind, the way his husband had gently placed a hand over his swollen belly.  Michele repeated the motion, happy to feel nothing but his flat stomach – and maybe a little bit of retirement flub from lack of exercise and Emil’s cooking.

“The diet starts tomorrow,” he decided and patted his face dry with a towel.  Then he returned to bed, hoping that the dreams would cease and let him get enough sleep so he’d be ready for whatever it was Emil had in store for him the following morning.

 

Thankfully, Michele did not dream again that night.  Or, if he did, he didn’t remember it.  Though, when he awoke, he could have sworn he’d seen Emil’s crying face, tears of joy streaming down his face.  But, after blinking, he spotted the man in question snoring softly beside him.

Michele liked when he was the first to wake up.  He wasn’t a master chef like his husband, but he could pour a mean bowl of cereal.  He had two ready, as well as a cup a coffee brewed by the time Emil emerged from their bedroom, his slippers on the wrong feet and his robe halfway on.

“Mickey?” he asked, voice still gravelly with sleep. “What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast.” He shrugged. Wasn’t it obvious?

“At five-thirty?”

Was it that early?  Michele hadn’t realized.  Oh well.  “I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “I was too excited for your surprise,” he added as he set the bowls down on the table.  That got Emil to wake up fully, his face shining like the sun.

“Really?” He pounced on him, wrapping Michele in a tight hug and nuzzling his shoulder. “It won’t disappoint, I promise!”  At that, excitement bubbled up in Michele’s chest.

“I can’t wait.”

 

Michele tried not to look disappointed when they walked up to the ice skating rink a few hours later.  He figured Emil would have taken the day off if he intended to surprise him.  But, maybe he could get a few minutes of practice in.  He didn’t want to get too rusty, even if he wasn’t competing anymore.

“You’re going to love this!” Emil cheered from beside him, carrying a duffel bag, which Michele only just now realized had their skates inside.

They made it up the steps and toward the double doors.  Emil, ever the gentleman, held one open for Michele, who rolled his eyes, but hid a smile as he stepped inside.  The place was empty.  Of course, it had only just opened, so the recreational skaters probably hadn’t started to arrive yet.

“Okay,” Emil interrupted his thoughts. “Close your eyes.”

Michele fixed him with a look, but Emil stuck out his lower lip, so he conceded, letting his eyes slip closed.  He allowed his husband to guide him through the lobby and toward the next set of doors.  He felt the familiar blast of cold air as they stepped into the rink.  The floor was spongy beneath them, able to handle the blades of their skates without guards, though they hadn’t put theirs on yet.

He felt Emil’s hand covering his eyes and the other man’s lips at his ear. “Ready?” he asked and Michele nodded.  Emil let out a giddy little laugh and then removed his hand. “Open!”

It took Michele a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright white of the room.  He blinked a few times and then spotted someone on the ice.  She moved gracefully, a professional though and though, with bright red hair that starkly contrasted with the ice.

“Mila?” Michele furrowed his brow and then his eyes went wide.  If Mila was here, that meant…

“Mickey!” Sara called and he nearly burst into tears.  She was waving from across the ice, leaning against the edge and watching her wife skate. 

Michele wasted no time.  He ran onto the ice, ignoring the way his husband shouted a jovial, “Mickey, your skates!”  He just slid his way over, stopping once he reached the railing and wrapping his arms around his sister.

“Sara,” he breathed into her hair. “Oh, Sara. You’re here.”

“Are you surprised?” she asked as he let her go. He combed his fingers through her long hair and pressed their foreheads together.

“Unbelievably so.”

“I’m surprised Emil managed to keep it to himself,” Mila said, skating over to join them. “I figured he would have spilled the beans.”

“That’s why we didn’t tell him until last night,” Sara reasoned and then it clicked for Michele.  That’s who Emil had been talking to on the phone when he came home.  No wonder he was all flustered and nervous.

“Well, I’m glad.” Mila placed a hand on the wall and turned toward Michele. “How’s it going, Big Bro?” she asked.

“Going quite well, thank you.” He liked Mila.  He never cared for any of Sara’s suitors, but Mila was different.  He’d accepted her into the family from the get-go.  Well, as much as an overprotective older brother could accept the person taking his baby sister away.

“Mickey, you forgot your skates.” Emil panted, holding them out to Michele as he joined the three.  His own were already laced up – the reason he’d taken so long and looked so out of breath.

“Thank you, Emil.” He took them and then faced Sara. “Shall we skate together like old times?” he offered, excited to see her and curious if she, too, had been taking it easy.

“I’d love to, Mickey. Let me just get my-”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Mila interrupted, drawing delicate brows down.

“Oh, but Mila, you’re being-”

“The answer is no, _Zaika_.” The redhead put her foot down.

Michele frowned, gaze flicking between the two.  He’d never heard Mila speak to his sister that way before.  There was no reason to keep her off the ice, unless…  Unless she was hurt!  Oh no, had Sara injured herself?  He had to know.

“Sara-”

“Well, since Mila is intent on ruining our other surprise,” Sara began, rolling her eyes. “I suppose now is as good a time as any.” She smiled, still looking a little tired, but happy.  Almost as happy as she'd looked on her wedding day. “Mickey, I wanted to tell you right away, but I didn’t want to do it over the phone.”

“Hence our impromptu visit,” Mila added, sliding closer to her wife and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“We weren’t sure if it would take on the first try, but,” Sara bit her lower lip, her eyes alight with excitement. “We’re going to have a baby!”

Michele gaped, his jaw dropping, and he saw Emil mirror him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” he finally managed. “You’re what?”

Sara giggled and clasped her hands together. “I’m only a few weeks along, so it’s hard to tell.” She blushed, her cheeks taking on a rosy glow.  Had she been glowing like that before? “I’m pregnant!”

“You’re going to be uncles,” Mila added, though her voice sounded far away and like she was behind a wall of glass.

Michele watched as the room spun.  He vaguely heard the other’s scream his name before everything went dark, his last thought being, ‘Oh, so _that’s_ why I was having those dreams.’

 

Michele opened his eyes, squinting against the bright fluorescent lights shining down on him.  This time they weren’t moving, but Michele sure felt like _he_ was.  Whatever he was riding in went over a bump and he heard the echo of sirens in the distance.  There was something soft beneath him once again and a pillow under his head.

He glanced to his right and saw a woman in a surgical mask gripping the bars of the wheeled bed with blue glove-clad hands and looking at a monitor on the wall.  He turned to his left and saw familiar hands gripping the bars and a golden ring glinting beautifully under the hideous lights.

Michele’s gaze followed up the man’s arm to his face.  Emil wasn’t wearing a surgical mask this time.  He opened his mouth to ask him why, but stopped when his husband looked down at him, completely pale.

“Mickey?” His face gained no color, but he looked relieved. “You’re awake.”

“Of course, I’m awake,” he grumbled and then his eyes went wide. “The baby!”

“The baby?” Emil furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Our baby!” Michele lifted his head, but found no bump, just flat sheets across his middle. “What?”

“Please lie back, Sir,” the medic instructed, placing a gloved hand on his chest. “Do you remember what happened?”

Michele tried to think, but his head hurt.  His head.  That’s right.  He slipped on the ice and hit his head.  Why did he slip?  That wasn’t like him.  He’d been talking to…

“Sara!” he gasped. “Where’s Sara?”

“She and Mila are fine,” Emil soothed, rubbing his shoulder. “They’re going to meet us at the hospital.”

“Oh.” He sighed and closed his eyes.

“Don’t fall back asleep.” His husband gave him a little shake. “You might have a concussion.”

Michele nodded, but felt himself drifting off.  He managed to stay conscious for the rest of the ride and through his examinations.  Finally, after his CT scan came back looking normal, they let him rest.

Emil stayed by his side the whole time, holding his hand and muttering in Czech whenever something beeped or the doctors hummed at his chart.

“Thank you,” his whispered, feeling tired again, but giving Emil’s hand a squeeze. “You know, it’s funny.” He interrupted himself with a yawn. “I had a dream like this.”

“You did?” Emil asked, brushing his thumb back and forth over his knuckles.

“Mmm…” Michele closed his eyes. “I was having our baby…” And then he fell asleep.

 

As it turned out, Sara and Mila were only visiting for a couple days.  The redhead had gotten an earful from Yakov for sneaking away from practice, but she promised it had been worth it for Sara to tell her brother that they were expecting in person.

Michele was discharged in time to see them off to the airport.  He gave Sara one last hug, his heart hammering in his chest as she pulled back and grabbed his hand, placing it over her belly.  She wasn’t showing, but he knew.  Inside her, his niece or nephew was growing and that thought brought tears to his eyes, though he quickly blinked them away.

“I haven’t told _Mama_ and _Papà_ yet,” she said, releasing his hand. “I wanted you to be the first to know.”  His heart swelled at that. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment next week, so I’ll be sure to send you a sonogram picture.”

“And we’ll be sure to frame it and put it up in the living room,” Emil joined in, slinging an arm over Michele’s shoulders.

“I have a feeling this child is going to be unbelievably spoiled,” Mila noted, pride and joy written all over her features.

“Without a doubt,” Michele replied and hugged her, too. “Have a safe trip. Take care of Sara.”

“Of course,” Mila said and then leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. “My treasures have just doubled.”

“Mila, we’ll miss our flight,” Sara called.

“Coming!” she returned, but not before hugging Emil and giving Michele one last nod.

Her treasures have doubled. Michele thought about that, feeling the slightest bit envious. He was overjoyed, of course, but-

“C’mon, Mickey. Let’s get you home.” Emil took his hand and led him out of the airport. “That couch in your room was nice and all, but I’ll be happy to sleep in our bed tonight.” Michele just nodded, grunting an affirmative. “Mickey? What is it?”

“Oh, nothing, just.” He shook his head as they got into a taxi. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Me, too!” Emil beamed. “Having a baby, can you imagine?”

Yes. He could.

“That reminds me,” Emil went on. “You said you dreamed about that.” He chuckled.

Michele froze. “What?”

“Right before you fell asleep that first day at the hospital,” his husband went on. “You said you had a dream that you were having our baby.” He grinned. “And, when we were in the ambulance, you-”

“Oh no.” Michele covered his face with his hands.  He’d said all that out loud?  “I just kept having those dreams and I thought it was another one, so…” he trailed off pathetically.

“Mickey,” Emil began, chewing on his bottom lip. “Do you…do you want to have a baby?”

Did he?  Did the idea of a tiny tot with Emil’s eyes fill him with a sense of longing?

“Maybe not right away, but,” Michele took a deep breath. “Yes. I’d like to have kids. One day.”

“Enough to dream about it.”

“Hey,” he snapped, shooting a glare at his husband. “That was just because Sara was pregnant.”

“You didn’t find out until that day,” Emil corrected.

“I may not have known, but I _knew_ , Emil.” Michele crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a twin thing.”

“Is that right?” The other man laughed. “Well, I’m glad you want kids, Mickey,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?” He quirked a brow.

“Mhm.” Emil moved closer to him in the back of the taxi. “Cuz I want a whole bunch of little Mickeys running around.” He smiled. “Oh, they’d walk all over me.”

“I bet they would.”

“You know I can’t say no to those gorgeous violet eyes of yours.” He snorted. “Just think of a miniature version of you asking for allowance. We’d be broke!”

Michele _could_ picture it, but in his imagination, it was a little Emil, covered in mud, with blue eyes impossibly large as he held up a frog, asking if he could keep it.  He chuckled at the thought. “Our baby, huh?”

“Yeah,” Emil sighed and then cradled the back of Michele’s head, pulling him in for a kiss.

“What was that for?”

“Well, if it’s alright with you.” His husband smirked, albeit bashfully. “When we get home, I’d love to practice making one,” he teased.

Michele shoved him hard in the chest and rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t work that way, Emil.”

“It does in your dreams,” he said, like it made it reasonable.

“In _your_ dreams,” Michele replied.  Then Emil stuck out his lower lip, pouting.

“It’s been three days…”

Michele took a deep breath and sighed as the taxi came to a halt. “I suppose there’s no harm in _trying_.”

And, before Michele could blink, Emil paid the driver and had him halfway up to their apartment.  He laughed, nearly tripping over his own feet as his husband practically dragged him through the doorway, kicking off his shoes and leading him to the bedroom.

He was certainly lucky to be loved so much.  But he wouldn't mind if his treasures doubled.

Or tripled.

**Author's Note:**

> Aww, I just love them all~♥
> 
> Notes:  
> -Sara was artificially inseminated, but for simplicity's sake, the donor isn't any of the skaters.  
> -Michele was having dreams about being pregnant because his twin sister had just found out she was pregnant. It's kind of strange, but siblings, especially twins, are sometimes connected like this. (There's no scientific explanation, just go with it, haha)
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com)!  
> Also, check out the event blog [@emimikeweek](http://emimikeweek.com)~


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